


Reason 1: Hell

by Ever_Clear3



Series: The Real Reason's [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Hell, M/M, Rape/Non-con References, Series 4 Spoilers, Torcher
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-01-01
Updated: 2013-01-05
Packaged: 2017-11-23 13:37:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,498
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/622769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ever_Clear3/pseuds/Ever_Clear3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set before, during, and after The Reason's. Dean always wonders where it began for him and Cas. He's asked him on several times his reason's for loving him, and Cas would only smile at Dean and say it was soul that drew him. Cas would never ask the question in return, and Dean would be grateful sometimes. He figured it was just there like his love for Sammy, but sometimes when he would have Cas in his arms or when Cas does one of his little quirks, Dean would think...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part 1

 

 

 

* * *

" _Why do you love me Cas?" Dean always seemed to ask.  Castiel stopped cleaning the gun in his hands and cocked his head to the side as if thinking._

_A tilt of his lips was all Dean would see before he'd answer, "It was your soul Dean. That's what drew me in and you are what kept me."_

_Dean didn't know if how to take the answer, but Cas seemed please with it. He picked up the gun again along with the cloth and continued_

_to clean the barrel._ _Dean never replied back after that, but settled on the bed of the motel and_

_pondered his own reason's for why he loved Cas the way he did._

* * *

The heat as insistent on his body, everywhere yet no where at the same time. Alistair laughed softly in his ear.

"Just give it up Dean. Say yes and I'll stop" he spoke softly in Dean ear. Dean shook his head vigorously. He could hold out. He knew he could. He had to be strong. He still remembered the look in Sam's eyes when he heard him scream just when the Hell Hounds came for him. The fear, grief, and pain was palpable in Sam's face. Holding that picture in his mind Dean held on. Lifting his head he spat a mouthful of blood and saliva at Alistair's face.

"Never you _bitch_ " he growled out.

Alistair smiled his crooked smile expecting the answer, and turned the blade swiftly that was embedded in Dean's side. Dean howled and his whole body seemed to come from the racks as the pain coursed through his soul. Alistair released the blade and took a step back admiring the work he created. An array of cuts was presented all over his body. Some deep...some shallow but all that equally caused the greatest of pains that he had ever felt before. Dean panted heavily his body landing with a solid thunk on the racks. His head was tilted back, showing another array of scars old and new along his neck that all seemed to just blend seemlessly with each other. He didn't know how long he was on the rack but it seemed as if was forever. 

"Deanie-boy. I just love this  _defiance_ that you still maintain to hold on to. But why Dean? Who are you doing this for? Surely not for your father. The Great John Winchester." He said with gusto and created another slash on Dean's body this time along his hip, but it bearly registered to Dean. "The man who left his family behind to hunt down the deamon who killed his wife, but to only sell his soul to it in the end. A little ironic yes? When you did the same for young Samuel." he chuckled to himself softly, "You Winchester's are all about self sacrifice....Pathetic." he regarded Dean with disdain.

Dean wouldn't look at Alistair. He didn't want to give him the satisfaction.

Alistair sighed. "You Winchester's just don't understand the importance of a soul. Oh the way they wreath when you cut into something so _pure_ and then to  _taint_ it." he walked back to the table that held more objects. He picked up a hammer now and railroad spikes. He showed them to Dean. The spike was at least half and inch thick and nearly ten inches long. He inhaled deeply knowing what was to be done with them. "It is just so beautiful when you see a soul break." he moaned with perverted pleasure.

* _Dean...hold on*_ he heard faintly, like a whisp of wind in a desert. 

Alistair was now in front of him. He placed the spike gently against the flat of his hand. Fear coursed in him and his heart hammering in his ears. He looked from his hand to Alistair and held the mans black eyes. Alistair grinned showing an array of surpisingly straight teeth and with no warning he brought the hammer down mightily on the spike and drove through his hand with one fowl swoop. 

Dean gasped. He felt nothing  at first; then he felt the spike tear through flesh, muscle, veins, and bone, then an unholy scream seemed to rip from his throat and his head flung back and he was engulfed in an aganizing pain. Alistair brought the hammer down again, the sound of the two pieces of metal hitting eachother along with sickening sounds of it being forcefully plunged into his body will always be with him now. The spike was hit two more times till only a inch or so was sticking form his hand.

"Whoah! That was excellent Dean!" Alistair exclaimed. "The best you have given me so far. Let us see if the same results will be reached again yes?" 

He didn't wait for Dean to respond. Just picked up the second spike and moved it down to his wrist. Dean tried to bace himself but he really couldn't against something like this. Before he could even inhale he spike was driven home. He choked on the intake of air and settled into a mix of a coughing fit and the scream that was caught in the back of his throat. 

Alistair's smile was nearly blinding at Dean predicament. "Ohh I do believe that was nearly close Deanie-boy! But not what we want." Alastair then moved to his other side. 

"You son-of-a-bitch! When I get out of here I'm gonna _kill_ you Alistair." Dean growled when he finally caught his breath. 

Alistair paused for a second and looked up to Dean. 

"Then say  _yes_." he spoke softly.

Dean held his eyes before spitting another wad of blood and saliva in his face.

Alistair smirked and wiped the mess from his face sucking the fluids from his fingers. "So be it." The hammer was dropped and the spike once again tore through flesh and bone and Dean was in agony. 

* _shhh...shhh...I am here....*_

Dean could slightly make out in his frantic mind of pain and despair. When Alistair had finished, Dean was left panting his head resting heavily on his chest and a strange type of peace had settled over him. He didn't care what it was and he wasn't going to complain to receiving a respite. He heard Alistair move away from him and place his tools back on the table. 

* _Endure it Dean*_

He didn't know who the voice, but he apreciated the little comfort it offered him. 

"Well Dean. Lets take a look inside and see what makes you so different from the other souls I've had the pleasure of having on my rack." Alistair spoke beaking the companionable silence in his head. He did not get Alistairs meaning but a since of dread settled in him as he struggled to lift his head and opened blury eyes to see the other man standing directly infront of him hold a very thin but extremely sharp knife. He knew it to be a paring knife. This type of knife was normally used for pealing. It was thin enough to slip under the skin but leave the meat. With wide eyes Dean knew what Alistair was going to do with it. He inhaled deeply; harshly, the action caused him to move against the rack and agrivate the would in his hands and wrists that now pulsated with pain along with his rising heart. A sinister smirk crawled over Alistair's face seeing Dean's realization. Keeping their eyes locked Dean's hazel green and the blackness of Alistairs the man placed just the tip of the blade between Dean's colar bone and only had to press lightly for the blade to sink in slowly. Dean sucked in a breath but refused to make any noise. Taking a step closer to the hanging man Alistair angled his wrist upward slightly and brought the blade down slowly. Alistair kept his eyes focused on Dean's face taking in the mans every facial movement. He could see the pain in his eyes and also the determination. He loved breaking souls, and the thought of breaking a Winchester soul just made it even more sweeter. The blade stopped moving just at the top of the pelvis. Two more identical cuts were made, one on either colar bone. Dean's head had lulled back time and he was panting harshly though his nose his lips slightly parted. Not taking his eyes off the man Alistair tossed the pairing knife now bloody onto the table. Taking a hunk of flesh in each hand he forcefully pulled and exposed Dean's chest cavity and abdomin. Dean clenched his jaw and ground his teeth together trying to hold the scream in his eyes closed tightly. There was a wet squilsh of his intestines moving from his body and falling to the floor. It was an odd sensation overall. 

"Oh Deanie-boy, don't hold it all in!" he hissed. Alistair leaned back slightly and examined his now open chest. "Hmm this won't do." he said to the now bloody mess. A torn piece of Dean's shirt was now in his hands and was being used to wipe excess blood from his rib cage. 

"Ahahh" Dean gasped. The pain had increased and he felt tears in his eyes

"Better." 

A pair of prunning shears seemed to appear in Alistairs hands. Alistair moved a piece of Dean's skin to the side as if it were a wayward piece of cloth. The shears were placed at the top of his ribs. 

"Are you ready Dean?" Alistair asked smiling. 

"Fuck you" Dean grunted through the pain. 

"We're not quite there yet Dean," he spoke but looked over him lustfully "oh but soon." then a second later the shears were closed violently and the echoing snap of the rib could be heard. Dean's scream was caught in his throat. Then the shears were moved to the next one and this time not asking Dean of anything they were closed again. Dean's body arched this time from the rack, the veins of Dean's neck stood up in stark relief against his neck and his jaw was clenched painfully tight. 

"No! Dean! Let me hear it!" Alistair growled in Dean's ear before moving the shears to another rib. By the fourth cut Dean broke and unleashed a might cry. Blood dribbled down from his moth and coated his throat. Alistair was positively beaming now and continued to cut as Dean continued to scream leaving his throat raw. Even though he was dead, it was amazing that even in hell he prayed for relief; for someone to  _save him_ this time. 

"There all done." Alistair himself was out of breath from the excitement. Slipping his blood soaked fingers into the slits he wrenched the top of Deans ribs from his body having his heart and lungs exposed. Alistair tossed the bones onto the table. Alistair brought his fingers up and stoked at Deans eradic heart. 

"Hmmm magnificent. Its truely something that the soul still creats a body for itself even dead. That it hold all the same respones as if it's still alive." he paused "Let's go in then shall we." 

* _...Please...hold on...*_

 


	2. Part 2

* * *

_"Cas?"_

_"Yes Dean."_

_"Why did you save me? Why did you stay? The whole time I was in Hell,_

_you didn't have to do what you did for me. But you did. Why?"_

_Castiel was silent._

_"I did what I did because I still had hope Dean. If not in my Father, then in you. The human soul can bear so much pain and still be resilient._

_You showed me that Dean."_

_Dean was silent._

_"But still Cas." he said his words loaded with doubt and sefl loathing as he thought of his time in hell. What he did and what he went though._

_"How could you be so sure, that I was worth the redemtion?"_

_Castiel chuckled, his blue eyes gleaming. Dean regarded this beauty in font of him. It always amazed him when Castiel did things that were so unbearably human._

_"That's the beauty of hope and faith Dean. You really don't know. You just believe."_

* * *

 

 

Blood curdling screams filled Dean's ears. He could hear Alastair in his other ear whispering words of encouragement as he carved his way into the body on the racks.

"Oh you are doing so well Dean. You are my favorite pupil. The best." Dean tried to shut his mind to it and on concentrated on the feel of the blade that went through the woman's flesh like a hot knife in butter. It cut so smoothly that he could only admire the weapon. There were a few things he came to understand about hell. There was always an abundance of souls *obviously*, it will forever and always be unbearable hot *duh*, sleep was a gift bestowed on few *he luckily received a few nights*, and torcher was to always be expected *wouldn't be hell without it*, and Alistair had the most exquisite weapons that Dean had ever dreamed of.

He still felt guilt for saying yes to Alistair. He remembered that day. He knew for agonizing hours he had endured Alistairs hands elbow deep in his soul. The pain had been un bearable and he would do anything to make it stop. And Alistair was there the entire time whispering in his ear that he'd stop and make all the pain go away if he just say yes. Dean to lost in a haze of pain could care less why he wanted him to say yes so bad, but at this point and time; he was willing to do anything to make it go away.

So he did it. He said yes to Alistair and now he was now carving some poor soul of a woman woman up, but for once he just wanted someone to hurt as much as he did. For someone to feel his deep agonizing despair that never seemed to leave his soul. His mother's death, giving up everything so Sammy could have a better life but have it thrown back at him, for his father taking his childhood and turning him into a weapon, for never being able to get that apple pie life he so desperately wanted, for only being seen as just a mindless soldier. So yes Dean took it all out on the poor woman. Her cries of pain escalated with each violent slash of the knife.

"Deanie-boy. Don't be so hasty. Enjoy the cries of pain she presents to you. The same way I had, do you not remember?" he hissed in his ear and placed his hands lightly on Dean's hips and gripped him tight. A shiver of repulsion went through his body and he forced himself to stay still. He also remember those moments too.

When his hands weren't deep in his soul he was deeep in him. Dean still felt dirty for it and had also allowed the demon relentlusly torcher his soul the way he did. He was suppose to be strong one of the Winchester brothers. But yet he couldn't protect himself as he did on numerous occassions before. He felt weak, hopeless, worthless, unworthy. More cuts were now added to medley he created before him. All Dean wanted was his control back and Alistair promised it to him. Those thoughts of being in control of himself again had weakened his resolve. Partaing in the physical, mental, and sexual abuse of his soul; it had only been just a matter of time and Alister knew it and played him like the fool. His slices now were more savage and had less finess. Alistair took the knife now from his hands and slinked over to the table were more implements of torcher were laid out. He picked up a thin carving blade that was already soaked in blood. His own to be precise.

* _Dean_ * was whispered. 

There had been plenty of times in all his sessions with Alistair that he heard this particular voice. Sometimes it would bring him hope and he could hold out longer against the demon or give him comfort in his solitude when he cried his soul into a restsless state of slumber. But other times and more often than not it just left him lonely and confused. There had to be a goddamn reason as to why he could hear the voice. Really what made him so special that a voice such as this would talk to him and try to comfort him. Smooth as perfectly aged whiskey. Dry with a lot of kick that left such a burn that you just had to had more. Dean new this voice in his head was of no one he had ever met on Earth and especially not in Hell, as he really only had contact with Alistair. This voice that always whispered to him; Dean had grew to hate. It brought him too much hope.

"Now where are you off too in your little old head Deanie-boy? We're not quite done yet with the lesson you see." Alistair came back over to him in his hand the very knife he had used on him countless times before, but the moment it stood out the most was when it used in the subdugation of removing his flesh.

"Ahh I see you regonize the blade." Alistair said smirking. " Good. I have a new technique I want you to lean."

*... _Dean....*_

There was that brush he felt everytime the voice was speaking to him. As time went by Dean ignored him, it only held empty promises.

_*...I'm nearly there....*_

Now that gave him pause. 

 


	3. Part 3

* * *

 

  _"What did it feel like Cas? When you first knew?"_

_It was a day like anyother. Dean was out working on the Impala fixing repairs that were aquired from yet another hunt._

_Castiel sat inside in the driveres seat, the car door open. He gaze about Bobbies junk yard, taking in all the sites. For there to be so many empty cars_

_laying about_ _it was strangely beautiful and a serinity about it. He had never expected he would find this type of peace in a place like this._

_"What do you mean Dean? For to not like have '_ chick flick moments' _as you so like to call them. You are asking a lot of questions that would_

_warrent an answer." he spoke quietly,_ _keeping his eyes on the melody of cars._

_Dean stood straight now and walked away from the hood_ _of the car to stand in front of Castiel._

_He scratched the back of his head. "Ah Cas you know me. I may not like the chick flick moments but I just gotta know."_

_Castiel finaly turned his head to Dean. His blue eyes alight with pleasure and love._

_"Dean I can never truely tell you how I felt that day, because I had a myriad of unfamiliar emotions assulting me at all at once._

_But one that was truely clear was anger."_

* * *

_  
_*... _I'm nearly there...*_

That one phrase seemed to play through Dean's mind quite often since he heard it. It had became such a distraction to him that even Alistair was fed up with his absentmindedness and the denial of torchering anymore souls, which was how he ended up back on the racks once again.

"Now Dean. Would you care to tell me how you came about to changing your mind? I know you enjoyed the pain you inflicted on those souls so why suddenly stop now?" Alistair asked leaning against the rack and tapping a pair of pliers absently against his thigh.

Dean spat blood to the ground and moved his tongue into the now toothless slot

"Well Alistair, you know us souls. We're very fickel. One day yes the other a no." he smirked revealing bloody teeth.

Alistair sighed in obvious disappointment. "Dean I have such faith in you. You have the potential to be the best and you've shown it. So why?" He punctuated the question by stepping forward and forcing the pliers into Dean's mouth and removed another tooth. A molar this time. Dean Grunted aroudn the tool and a low throaty scream clogged his vocals. 

"Oh look at that baby. It didn't even chip or break. You have surprisingly good teeth considering the life you lived." Alistair chuckled taking the blood covered tooth from the pliers and holding it up to Dean glazed over eyes to see. 

Dean smirked. It wasn't the first time Alistair had pulled his teeth out with such cruel methods. He suppose he should be lucky that this time around he hadn't purposely broke any of the teeth so he could cut into his gums to retieve the rest. 

Alistair tossed the tooth over his shoulder and it landed near a small pile of other bloodied teeth along with fingernails. 

"Dean. I as we both know I enjoy doing this, and you not so much. From the looks of it you only have about thirteen maybe fifteen left." he used the tool to lift one of Dean's lips. "Do you really want to lose the rest? We can get started on cutting off other pieces too?" he asked softly. 

Dean said nothing. 

Alistair sighed heavily and moved away. 

* _...it's nearly time...*_

He heard the voice but couldn't so much as grunt in recogizing it. Alistair was turned to the table, focusing on the teeth and nails he pulled. He carefully put the teeth in a small capped jar that had Dean's other teeth from earlier sessions, the same for his nails. 

"How long have we've been here?" Dean suddenly asked.

Alisair paused, putting the last tooth in the jar with a soft clink and shutting the flip lid and locking the clasp; air hissing as it escaped. 

"Why do you suddenly need to know Dean? You've never wondered before." The bottle was set on the table with a loud thunk. 

They were both silent. 

"I have a qustion Dean." he began, "Have you been hearing voices?" he asked.

There was a moment of panic that shot through Dean, a moment of true fear that Alistair knew about the voice he heard, that kept him slightly sain and what had caused him to change his mind suddenly. 

"You mean besides my own scream, can't say that I have." came the cocky reply.

"Hmm...I think we're going to try to something new. You might like this." he said turning around. "Dean you might want to see this."

Dean lifted his head slowly and saw that in Alistairs hand was a small metal clamp. It had two thin pieces of metal that came straight out and then bent down.

"What the hell is that? You gonna pick my nose with it?" he asked and chuckled harshly then broke into a coughing fit.

Alistair smiled and laughed with him. "Hmm something like that. But this is more used for picking your eyes." he finished with a smile.

Using his free hand Alistair used a crank that lowered the rack and leaned it back wards til he was about waist height. He turned away again and grabbed another tool that looked like an old fashion icecream scooper but smaller and with a pointed edge. He hooked a leg in the rollie-chair that appear at the end of the table and rolled it to the head of the rack and sitting down. He set his instraments down next to Dean's head. 

"You have such beautiful eyes Deanie-boy." Alistair said looking into Dean's eyes and fingering the lids. Dean squeezed his eyes close and tried to turn his head away.

"No." was growled at him.

A tattered yet sturdy leather strap appeared bolted down next to Dean's head. Alistair had a firm hold on Dean's head  and used his other hand to take the strap and tie down Dean's head. When he finished Alistair leaned back and smiled lightly patting Dean's cheek. 

"Now we begin."

Taking hold of his head, he picked up the tool and pinched its ends closed. He pried Dean's eye open and slipped the cool metal piece in and slowly released it. It forced Dean's eye open and held it so. Dean tried to struggle but his restaints held. His heatbeat was a wreck and his breathing was erratic. He now picked up the scoop and held the pointed edge and it to the corner of his eye.

"Feel free to scream all you like, and I'll try to make this as painful as possible. But also take note on my technique."

"Well what we are suppose to do is put a little lube on it to make the entry easier, but we're men here you can take a little discomfort." he smile crookedly. "Then we apply a little pressure and it should slip right in. Hmm in normal cases there would be the application of some kind of a local anesthetic. But you're a tough boy you won't need it."

Alistair was gentle pusing the tool in. A searing pain shot throught Dean's eye causing his body to jerk in his straps. He tried not to scream but it was too much. His moth renched open of its accord and the sound that came from him was nearly equivalent to that of a dying animal. Alistair applied more pressure and curved the scoop so the bowl was at the base of his eye socket and pushed. He felt his body jerk and heard him press the side button. It was as if a light bulb. He could see the dark caroaded ceiling that was stained with blood and rust and then nothing. Alistair grunted as he pushed the bowl further in til he held the snuggly in. His screaming died down and his body in shock from the fire that just bloomed in the left side of his face. Alistair lifted the scoop now from his face slowly. Blood ran in rivlets down his face. It felt surprisingly cool against his inflamed skin. It ran down it his ear and into his hair. But it was an odd senaition to feel the now feel the emty socket fill with blood. He knew if he turned his head a small river would flow from the wound. 

Alistair looked down at him now, putting his face infront of his good eye. 

"You did good Dean." he said smiling. He stood from stool and went back to the table. Hold the scoop delicately he rumaged through the items present til he found another empty jar. He came back to the rack and place the jar next to Dean's head. Opening the top he slowly emptied the bowl and his eye rolled and fell with a squishy plop into the empty jar.

"Now we need a little nurishment." he undid the stap on his forehead. Placing the jar at the edge of his face he took hold of his head with the other hand and tilted it. 

"Ahh" Dean gasped.

Blood ran from his socket and into the jar, a trickling sound filled his ear while everything else was strangely silent. He felt as though he wasn't with his sould now. He woundered if he should tell Alistair about the voice. Maybe he wouldn't do the same to his other eye, but he doubted. Alistair might do his other eye and say it was a lesson for not telling him sooner. But then Dean wondered if this was his soul breaking as he talked about what seemed so long ago. 

He felt fingers stroke his hair, and murmering. 

"Ohh Dean. You don't know how long I've wanted these from you. So  _beautiful_ in their  _defiance_ against me. The human eyes are so expressive. And I've never seen any like yours Deanie-boy. From the bottom of this demon's soulless heart thank you." 

Alistair released his head and tured to gaze to the jar and closed it slowly. He sat it down gently back next to Dean and then re-connected the head strap. Dean couldn't even put up a struggle like he usually would. He just felt defeated. With unusual gentleness and care, Alistair extracted the clamp from his eye and Dean felt the lids close and sink into the empty space. He felt a knot form in his throat as it further set in that he had no eye now and that soon he'd lose the other. A hunter was nothing without their eyes. It was how they recognized the signs. One of their most important sences in being a hunter. And now he was handicapped. 

"Oh Deanie-boy," Alistair cooed, " you finally shed a tear." With a sick glee he rushed to find another jar. "Hunter's tear's. A delicacy." he whispered.

He came back and held a smaller jar and came back to him. He quickly undid the strap again and turned Dean's head so the tears could flow to the side to the jar. The fact that Alistair took such  _joy_ in his tears made it all he worst. More just seemed to flow now and he bawled for his situation. That he couldn't get out of the deal like he promised Sam. That he wasn't as strong as his father. That he was such a screw up. 

"Yes Dean, give me more."

He gasped and his whole body shuddered as more tears seemed to pour from him. 

He cried for his pain. For the souls he torchered himself. For the guilt he felt now. For the fact that he enjoyed torchering those poor son-of-bitches that were stuck down here like he was. He cried because he failed like always. And on his own he was  _ **nothing.**_  

Alistair pulled away when the small jar was nearly half way full. The rest of Dean's tears seemed to have dried, but what he had was more than enough. Taking the glass cork he slid it in please easily. 

"I think we'll keep the other eye for now. Just in case you need another release." he patted the side of Dean's face fondly. This time he did jerk away as another sob shook his body and the knowledge that it wasn't over now. That his other eye would come back whole; as all things here did and he was going to feel that pain all over again. For the first time he felt despair sit in and a sudden emptiness. 

* _...Dean!...*_

He faintly heard the voice in his head. He wondered why now they chose to make their presence known. 

* _...DEAN!!...*_  

This time he chose to ignore them. It was too much for him now. He was going to give himself over to Alistair now. He just didn't care anymore. 

_***** _ **_...DEAN!!!....*_  **

For once the voice sounded closer. This time he would go to it.

_***...NO DEAN!!!....FIGHT!!!!!..... FIGHT DEAN!!!!....*** _

But he didn't want to fight anymore. He was too tired. 

He heard a faint rhythmic banging.

"What the hell?" he faintly heard Alistair.

There was muffled crashing and and raised voices. 

"Release him." a voice commanded. It felt vaguely familiar.

He heard Alistair snort and reply but couldn't make out the words. 

"That was your only warning." was the reply. 

The voice seemed closer and Dean could faintly hear other voices. Demon's and and unknown. 

There was a silence then a chaotic noice erupted around him. It sounded as if a battle was going on, but for what he couldn't fathom. It was impossible for someone to be fighting for him. 

"CASTIEL!" a deep voice shouted. 

Dean roused himself enough to peek open he only eye.

He didn't even know it was shut. 

He could barely make out bright centered mass of lights. They moved quickly and he saw them fighting against the demons. He heard Alistair roar in rage and then flee. Then suddenly one of the lights came to him. The bands that held him in bondage were broken and then he felt a steady strong hand be placed on his body. He was filled with an incredible heat. It burned like fire yet it soothed him. The pains in his body began to be chased away by the fire and he felt a coolness settle in his soul. 

"We have no time we must hurry." 

His other eye came back and he could see with clarity, but the bright lighted masses were still a blur. Before he even had a chance to sit up he was gripped tight on his arm and he was moving. Cries and yells still erupted around him but none of it bothered him. He felt strangely comforted by this person. 

"Rest Dean." they spoke, and recogized it as the voice that had been in his head while was down.

"W-wh-who are...a-are you?" he stuttered out breathlessly.

"Castiel." was the reply, "Rest Dean, we're nearly there." 

Dean said nothing else, and just rested easily in the others firm grip and went into oblivion. 

"Dean Winchester is saved." was the last he heard before slipping into the blackness and waking in the grave. 

 

 


End file.
